He Left
by Dark Sadistic Angel
Summary: A sappy, sort of angsty 2 1 story. Suicidal Heero moping over Duo.


He left

2+1, angst fluff. Disclaimers apply. Warning: Sap.

By Dark Sadistic Angel

He left. In the otherwise spotless room, regularly clock work cleaned on a Saturday, laid a letter on the desk. It was unopened. Over the rectangular whiteness laid a thin layer of dust. Conspicuously around it, the wooden surface of the table gleamed. Heero left it there. Indeed, there had been no need to open it. Duo had told him by words, facing him as he had laid down the letter on the desk three years ago. Inside it, he had said, was the money for the rent owed. Nothing else. The words were burned into his mind. Fresh and clear as the second he had spoken, his beautiful lips moving in the hideous utterance of a goodbye. He had not wanted to hear the words. But he heard them.

There had been no reason. No reason at all had been given. Just a few lines, and then the back view of his companion walking away, leaving him to stare in shock after Duo. Cut communication afterwards. Duo had disappeared before his very eyes. Why? The question lurked beneath his thoughts, submerged in a unseeing darkness that only rose out during the lonely nights he spent. He laid awake in his bed during the midnight hours, simply staring at the ceiling. Thinking, yet not thinking. Regurgitating only the same old confusion within him, which rose up with the moon until the dim light of dawn broke and he fell into a brief restless slumber for a few, blessed hours.

Time passed. Slowly, quickly, he did not know. His routine never changed. Every day blended into the next day, until he could barely tell night from the day. One month, two month. Then it became Winter, and afterwards Spring and Summer. Then came the Autumn. September 25. Fourth year anniversary of their meeting and parting. Another year had past since then. Another year of existing had past. No need for the coldness of the oncoming Winter. He had that in his heart.

Heero shrugged off his jacket and hung the well worn item up on a knob on the wall. It was beaten and patchy in places, like with all his clothes. He wore the same clothing he had always wore. Even the dirt stained yellow running shoes which soles were almost worn through was the same. His jeans had tiny rips and holes in it almost everywhere, a poorer mockery of well worn jeans. Heero was not concerned at all with his shabby appearance. He got by. Clothes were not important.

He placed down the entrance keys on a small cupboard as he stepped up into his apartment. Nothing was important anymore. Not even work. His hand froze above the dull silver keys as the realisation hit him. He had no reason to live. No reason whatsoever. For a hour he stood there, staring at the space before him, but not seeing anything. Then slowly, jerkily, Heero began moving towards the kitchen.

Inside the small place, he opened a drawer. Inside it, laid a gleaming knife. With calm, steady fingers, Heero reached out and grasped the cool handle. He lifted up the blade and studied the edge clinically. It was sharp and pointed. Enough for his purpose. A humourless smile appeared on his lips. He would have rest finally.

The doorbell sounded. It broke his line of thoughts. A faint frown appeared on his forehead at the interruption. Heero walked towards the entrance. After he had saw the visitor off, he would do it. There was plenty of time. Heero reached out to unlock the door, then he realised he still had the knife in his hand. He was clenching the knife tightly, so much so that his knuckles was pale. Heero turned and attempted to drop the knife. His hand would not release it. Bemused, Heero stared at his unwilling hand.

The doorbell rang again. No help for that. Heero hid the knife behind his back as he opened the door awkwardly with his left hand.

'Yes?' He said coldly as he looked out of the doorway. 'I'm a little busy now so-'

'Heero...'

His eyes widened as he saw the familiar face before him, unchanged from his remembered dreams. The emotions for the past hit him as he looked into the cobalt depths of the blue eyes he had thought he would never see again. All thought was swept away from his mind.

'Duo...'

The long hair man shifted uneasily in his stance.

'I... Heero, I-'

The knife he held behind him clattered to the floor. Heero turned at the sound.

'Heero! You were going to-!'

Suddenly arms swept him up into a massive hug. Heero gasped as he was pulled into the warmest of embraces he had not felt for years. The frozen ice around him was melted by the fire he felt radiating out from the warmth of Duo. Tight muscular arms griped around his entire body as shaking hands ran their way through his hair. He slumped into the familiar scent, lured by the nostalgic magnetic attraction of the man he had missed for four long years.

'I'm sorry... I'm sorry. God, please forgive me Heero. I never- oh Heero. I'm sorry....'

The babbling drifted above his head as he breathed Duo in. Nothing mattered anymore, because he now had back the only person that every did matter to him. Gradually, the words he wanted to say so long ago came to him again.

'Duo...' he whispered. 'Don't leave me.'

Duo hugged Heero so tight that he felt pain in his ribs.

'Please don't leave me...'

'I won't. Never again Heero. I'm so sorry.'

'I'm not.'

And Heero smiled unseen against Duo's shoulders. It was a rare genuine smile.

'Welcome home Duo.'

He came back.

Fin.


End file.
